


Everything I Ever Needed

by MicrosuedeMouse



Category: Lemonade Mouth (2011)
Genre: Angst, Confessions, F/M, First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, cross-posted to FFNet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-21
Updated: 2017-03-21
Packaged: 2018-10-08 15:53:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10390326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MicrosuedeMouse/pseuds/MicrosuedeMouse
Summary: Wen makes a move; Olivia freaks out and bolts. He tries to give her space and she regrets running. But with a little encouragement from Mo and help from the band, she has a way to apologise and, hopefully, fix her mistake.





	

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Up front: I did actually write the song I used in this fic. It's not amazing and I still have a few reservations (I'm a prose writer, not a lyricist), but to me that felt better than using something of someone else's. It like... sort of has a tune in my head? Some of a tune, anyway. Hopefully it reads okay to the rest of you. :P  
> 2\. If you're wondering, Lyle is the guy from the A/V club. They never actually say his name in the movie but he shows up in a lot of my fic because... I love him. (It's possible there's a little bias there. My boyfriend works in theatre tech and was his high school's go-to guy for running any A/V stuff, to the point that they still call him and hire him back to run their musicals now, four years after his graduation, lmao.)
> 
> Okay I think that's all. Hope you enjoy! Please leave a comment if you have a moment, it would make my day!

He had been so affectionate lately, and it turned her stomach upside-down.

She didn’t know how to pin down the feeling. There was anxiety, and a lot of it; that much was more than familiar. The rest of it was harder to identify. The goosebumps, sometimes _shivers_ ; the little smiles, the flushing, the heat where he touched her, the stomach aches, the shakes, the mental fog. Every little thing. It had been getting more and more, worse and worse.

Part of her knew what it probably meant, but that was _terrifying_ , so mostly she refused to think about it.

He was walking with her through the quiet halls of Mesa High after practice. More than that, he was holding her hand. He’d done it a few times lately, and she never knew how to react. Her stomach couldn’t settle while his fingers were laced gently with hers, no matter how warm her hand felt, no matter how well they fit together. He mostly talked while they wandered down the hallway; she mostly listened. If she pretended there was no contact, she could convince herself everything was normal, and she could hear everything he said and respond properly, laughing where she was supposed to. But that was hard to sustain.

They made it to her locker and she opened it automatically, shouldering her bag. His own locker was around the corner, but he hadn’t let go yet. Standing there, they faced each other, and he smiled that sweet smile, and her insides doubled their efforts to leave her body entirely.

“Hey, Olivia?” he asked slowly.

“Yeah Wen?” she managed, a little breathless.

“I was just wondering, like… whatever we’ve been doing these last couple months… is it what it feels like?” He glanced down at their clasped hands.

“Um,” she said first, and it felt like she was trying to think through molasses. “I-I don’t know.”

“I mean… do you like me?” God, that smile. She hesitated, then nodded, because she was smart enough to know – and _just_ honest enough with herself to admit – that no matter how he meant the question, there was only one answer. He let out a breath, smile growing, a little relieved. “Okay, cool. Because I’m kinda crazy about you,” he admitted, laughing at himself a bit and rubbing at the back of his neck as he glanced away.

“Oh,” she answered in a very small voice. There was that blood rushing to her face again.

He met her eye again, still smiling; he always seemed to be smiling at her. His hand fell from his neck and, hesitantly, moved up towards her face. Her whole body seemed to set itself on fire as his thumb brushed its way across her cheek. She stood there, stiff as a board, as he leaned in and kissed her cautiously. There must have been a hundred sensations running through her at once in that fraction of a second. He pulled back and smiled at her, still, or again, nervous.

He exhaled again. “I’ve wanted to do that for ages,” he sighed. “A year ago we barely knew each other and now I just… can’t imagine my future without you in it.”

And then her instincts kicked in, fight or flight. Adrenaline ripping through every vibrating cell of her body. “Wen, I – I have to go,” she said, too fast, dropping his hand, slamming her locker shut, and bolting.

-

She didn’t know why she’d done what she’d done, but it had the distinct feeling of having been a mistake, no matter how scared she had been. The panic was just enough to carry her home; in her bedroom she dumped her bag, grabbed a blanket, and crawled under her desk for a long, quiet anxiety attack. She was glad Gram wasn’t home yet. The woman had practically raised her, she knew how to deal with the anxiety, but Olivia didn’t feel up to explaining the cause.

An hour later, puffy-eyed and dried out, she managed to emerge and head for her bed, curling up in an exhausted knot of sheets and limbs.

He didn’t try to get in touch with her. In fact, he didn’t contact her all weekend. She began to fear she’d made an unforgivable mistake, that she’d lost his friendship forever. All she received was a text from Mo on Saturday: _You okay?_ That made sense. She was close with Mo, and Wen was close with Scott. It was logical for Wen to talk to them, or Scott at least. Besides, Stella and Charlie were hardly the people to go to with this kind of problem. Scott and Mo were a successful couple, not to mention tactful.

She didn’t answer for several hours. _I don’t know?_ was her eventual response. An hour later, after the sun went down, Mo turned up at the door with two lattes and a tin of fresh cookies.

“Talk to me, sweetheart,” she said, throwing her arms around Olivia’s neck.

“I don’t know what happened but I think I messed up,” Olivia eventually choked out against Mo’s shoulder.

-

On Monday she realized he wasn’t angry. He was a little hurt, and he was worried. He was trying to give her space. He still smiled that _stupid_ smile when he listened to her sing, but he kept his distance. Mo’s advice spun in circles around Olivia’s head all day long: “Olivia, it’s okay to be scared.” “Wen’s a wonderful guy; he would never do anything to hurt you.” “It’s natural to want to take time to yourself and figure out your feelings.”

“Olivia, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone who loved each other more than you and Wen love each other.”

He wasn’t coming too close to her without a reason. He never spoke to her alone. He didn’t touch her without permission. And every time she met his eyes her heart broke, because she could tell she’d broken his, and he was still trying to do what was best for her. No thought for himself. It went on for weeks.

“Mo, I need to fix this,” she finally said desperately one evening.

“Okay,” Mo answered readily. “What do you need, Olivia?”

-

She had to be honest with herself, and that wasn’t the easiest task for her any more. But he’d always been the best at pulling her, slowly, gently, out of her shell. Strangely, all it took in the end was to imagine him helping her through it. It came so naturally once she asked herself what he would say. “If you don’t know what to say, then don’t talk at all,” she imagined him assuring her. “Take your time. Express it a different way if you need to.” In her mind’s eye, he held out her notebook.

Once the stopper was pulled and she’d spoken the truth out loud – “Mo, I love him, I love him so much” – the rest just poured forward onto a page. It was going to be a risk, a huge risk; it was going to be big and scary and he would have every right to change his mind (“He won’t, sweetheart. His feelings haven’t changed at all.”) – but it was what he deserved. He was worth her heart in her mouth, he was worth a big show, he was worth putting it all on the line. He deserved her proving it, to everyone. He was worth swallowing the panic.

He had even written the melody.

It meant telling the rest of the band, but it wasn’t like they’d missed what was going on. Wen and Olivia not talking was like the roof caving in. Poor Charlie was so thrown off that for a few days he could barely play. But when she told them her plan they all agreed gladly (after, of course, making _quite_ sure that it wouldn’t kill her).

She had second thoughts. Of course she did. Second, third, fourth, countless more, wondering if this was _really_ the best way to do it. But when she put herself aside and asked if it was something he would like, the answer was an enormous _yes_ , so she told herself again and again that she had to go through with it. He loved it when she sang, loved it even more when she wrote from the heart. He’d made that much clear. She had to do this; he would love it, would understand what it took, would appreciate the immensity of the gesture better than maybe anyone else. And eventually it was time.

-

Another Halloween Bash. Strange how they could come full circle like this. Brenigan couldn’t bar them from playing any more; the school would implode if he even tried. Not that he would. He’d conceded to the band long ago, how could he not? Even if he still pretended not to enjoy the music, they were the reason Mesa High had the best performance hall in the state.

Olivia’s heart pounded just like it had the first time as they played their planned set, though for new reasons. After the tour they’d played that summer, the familiar faces of a full school gym were an easy audience. They danced with enthusiasm to old favourites and cheered loudly to newer tunes. Finally it was time for the final song.

Scott stepped next to Wen quietly as they absorbed the latest round of applause. “Last-minute change to the setlist,” he murmured.

“I thought that was our last one?” Wen asked in surprise, looking over at the guitarist.

Scott shook his head. “Olivia added one more.” Wen turned to head back to his keyboard, but Scott shook his head. “Keytar’s fine.”

“Well, what song are we doing?” Wen asked, frowning.

“You remember that tune you came up with last month that no one had a place for?” Scott asked.

Wen’s frown deepened. “Yeah,” he said. “Of course. But we haven’t practiced it. We don’t have any vocals.”

“Do now,” Scott answered. He looked into Wen’s puzzled expression and smiled encouragingly. “Don’t worry, it’ll be fine. Just roll with it.”

The applause was dying down and Olivia, anxiety coursing through her entire body like a plucked wire at her core, stepped toward the mic again. “One more song for you tonight, guys,” she said, and the shake in her voice might not have been noticeable if you didn’t know her. “Something brand new, never performed before. A little different from our usual. I hope you don’t mind.” Someone whistled.

Scott nodded at Wen, who took the hint and started with the keyboard part, still confused.

“You were my best friend,  
And then you were more –  
It was something we both felt,  
But then I ran out the door,”

Olivia came in with Stella and Scott’s guitar parts. The music was familiar to Wen, they’d worked out every part of this song except the vocals over a month ago, but it had never _quite_ come together. He was unaware they’d practiced it without him since. Olivia’s lyrics, though, those were _definitely_ new.

“You deserved better  
And I ran away from this  
You did it all right  
And I freaked out over a kiss

And I ran away,  
And I ran away,”

Olivia set her shoulders, ready for Mo and Charlie to come in, ready for it to pick up. Heavy bass bounced against her tightly-coiled insides. Eyes pressed shut, she stayed with the mic, not looking behind her. It would be a miracle, she knew, if she made it through this alive.

“And I’m so sorry  
I got scared  
But in my story  
You’re always there  
Everything I ever needed  
Perfect timing every time  
Everything you did succeeded  
You pulled me up this uphill climb”

Wen looked at Scott, trying to gauge how much the others knew about this, but the guitarist was focused on playing. Mo afforded him the briefest glance, but he couldn’t tell with the spotlights in his eyes what she was thinking. He looked forward again as Olivia took the mic from its stand.

“Everything you did was perfect  
Everything you said was right  
Every moment felt so worth it  
Don’t know why I fled that night”

Olivia swallowed hard, willing herself to keep it together at least as long as they were onstage. This only worked if she went through with it. She took a deep breath and let herself zero in on Wen’s playing, singing in harmony with the melody he’d written what seemed like ages ago now.

“I shouldn’t have made you wait,  
I shouldn’t have pushed you away,  
I shouldn’t have let you go,  
I need you please to hear me say –

Please hear me say,  
Please hear me say,”

Wen ground his teeth as he kept playing. It took concentration, honestly. It was a simple enough tune to maintain, but she was tearing his heart clean out of his chest. He’d been dying to talk to her about what happened, to ask what was wrong, to _understand_ , but he hadn’t wanted to push her.

“I’m so sorry  
I got scared  
But in my story  
You’re always there  
Everything I ever needed  
Perfect timing every time  
Everything you did succeeded  
Pulled me up this uphill climb”

Scott and Mo exchanged glances across the stage. Olivia was really laying herself out on the ground. She hadn’t let them all hear the final lyrics more than once, tweaking it constantly up until the last second, and they could hear her pouring her entire heart into it now.

“It was only ever you  
I only got in my own way  
God I hoped you felt it too  
Then panicked when I heard you say

You could see forever with me  
I don’t trust forever any more  
Loving promise hurt me once  
But I’ve been proven wrong before

So I’m running home,  
I’m running home,”

Charlie’s bass drum pounded like a heartbeat in everyone’s chests, and Wen thought in combination with his actual heart he might be on his way to bursting. His eyes were fixed on the back of Olivia’s head, and it took everything he had to keep playing instead of going straight to her. Despite himself, though, he wanted to hear the end of the song.

“And I’m so sorry  
I got scared  
But in my story  
You’re always there  
Everything I ever needed  
Perfect timing every time  
Everything you did succeeded  
Pulled me up this uphill climb”

Olivia had probably never thrown her heart into a song like this. Certainly she had never laid herself so bare, so vulnerable, in front of a crowd. But she wasn’t thinking about them whatsoever. All her thoughts were on the redheaded keyboardist behind her, on making sure he knew _exactly_ how much she regretted what she’d done, how badly she wanted to fix it.

“Let me give it one more try  
Let me show you how I feel  
Let me bare this heart of mine  
And prove to you it’s really real

‘Cause I’m so sorry,  
But you’re still there,  
So in this new story  
I won’t be scared”

Stella’s riff ended the song and for a second everything was silent, everyone a little stunned by the raw performance. It wasn’t as if Wen and Olivia’s will-they-won’t-they almost-romance wasn’t well-known, though maybe not many were privy to the latest developments. Their friends knew something was going on recently, though they didn’t know what. But it was obvious who she had to be singing to.

Finally, as it ended, she forced her eyes open and turned to look behind her. The moment he finished playing, Wen swung the keytar onto his back with one effortless toss, crossing the stage in a couple of long strides. All one fluid motion, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her.

The band cheered. The audience _screamed_. Somewhere offstage, at the board, Lyle had both the foresight and the reflexes to turn Olivia’s mic off before she threw her arms around Wen’s neck and kissed him back; he saved everyone from the moment being interrupted by the horrendous screeching of a dropped microphone hitting the stage. He smiled to himself. He could hassle her about it later. For now, he was happy her plan had worked. (He’d been in on it too – after all, the man who was running the show had to know what to expect.)

For a long moment Wen and Olivia just stood there, wrapped up in each other, deaf to the excitement of everyone around them. Finally they had to part to breathe, but he only held her tighter, leaning his head against hers.

“Letting you finish that song was the hardest thing I’ve ever done,” he told her, just loudly enough for her to hear over the racket.

“Was it worth it?” she asked, eyes wet.

“Absolutely,” he breathed, kissing her again as their delighted band members converged on them, enveloping them in an enormous group hug. The couple separated slightly, laughing as they were surrounded.

For a moment everything was noise and arms and smiles and utter, _profound_ relief. Then Stella’s voice on a microphone: “Ladies, gentlemen, and others, we’ve been Lemonade Mouth, they’ve been lovesick dorks, and you’ve been, once again, our favourite audience. Good night!”


End file.
